Just Add Tournament Arc!
by Gliblord
Summary: And presto, a new crackfic series is born.
1. Bimillennial Shinigami Tournament Arc

**JUST ADD TOURNAMENT ARC**

**Chapter 1:** Ginjou vs. Ganju!

"Kubo. _Kubo._" His editor drew a long puff of smoke, having taken up smoking due to the sheer stress of Kubo nodding but seldom ever following his advice. "Kubo-my friend, my buddy, I love ya to death, do anything for ya-but STOP IT with the mouth shots. It's gotten to the point where I'm kind of worried about you as a person. What is this, like, eight mouth shots in one chapter? I'm even kind of impressed you managed to fit in so many, what with the five pages of basically nothing."

"If I stopped drawing mouth shots, then the entire page would be blank," Kubo objected Zenly.

"Maybe that's a bad sign."

Kubo hung his head, but he took the comment in stride. Yet another editor with no appreciation for his unique brand of capturing emotion.

"Look, the truth is that Studio Pierrot has been breathing holes down the necks of everyone in the office so hard about your, ahem, 'uncooperative paneling,' that I'm surprised we haven't become Hollows yet. And honestly, I'm inclined to agree. You've got to give the anime guys more to work with, man!"

Kubo contemplated this. He'd worked closely enough with Pierrot on Movie 4; were they betraying him now?

His editor watched as Kubo's face turned glum and pouty. Thankfully his JUMP editors before him had managed to stamp down Kubo's nervous breakdowns, but he wasn't so sure this calm, collected Kubo was much better. His editor had finally managed to can Kubo into drafting up a long term plan for the series, but he'd seen how schizophrenically Kubo handled the Fullbringer arc-for which he clearly had at least some plans-when the ratings were headed south, (not to mention the volume sales). It'd turn from a glacially slow buildup of tension to a long stretch of nothing but fights. Suddenly, his editor struck on a brilliant idea.

"You know what, Kubo? Forget the plan. Just do a tournament arc. That way you get to do nothing but fights, you get to involve absolutely every character, and you don't have to worry so much about plot inconsistency (since I know you'll be playing it by ear no matter what anyway)."

Kubo scoffed. He would never surrender his authorly integrity and sell out to such a cliched, too often erratically executed idea.

"It's also an easy ratings boost," his editor added.

* * *

><p>"Welcome to bimillennial Soul Society Grand Shinigami Tournament!" blared the soul megaphone; the entire tournament would be commentated by none other than the unforgettable, inimitable Charlotte Cuulhorne, collectively deemed by the higher ups of Seireitei as just the sort of <em>hilarious<em> camp personality they needed to boost ticket sales from zero to about one or two (it was difficult to turn much of a profit without a currency).

The soul arena would have burst into raucous cheering, were it not for the fact that half the people in the stands were half-dead Rukongai beggars who'd only agreed to sign the ICHIGO CHANGED US public relations campaign agreement on the off chance they'd finally die by crossfire. (A gaggle of raggedy old men by the soul taffy concession stand were shooting the barrier-kidou shinigami some particularly dirty looks.)

"The first match up is Ginjou versus... the radical awesome wonderful terrific superb and stupendous GANJU!" Charlotte chortled with a coy little wink. This actually worked the reverse of what he expected, since it filled the combatants with amused whimsy and the audience with a murderous rage. Come what may, they were now clamoring for Cuulhorne's eventual demise.

Ganju was floating on his floaty ball on one end of the arena, grinning to the ears. _Damn straight I'm wonderful and terrific_, he thought.

On the other end Ginjou was teetering on his bankai, his own grin a smidgen over on the psychotic side of the spectrum.

"The rules are thus: There are none! Fight to the death! The stakes? The loser gets either a mouth to mouth with Unohana (try not to splurt out too much blood!), or gets to finally be free of the cycle of want and join the unknowable afterafterlife. The overall victor gets..."

Anticipatory silence fell over the choked crowd.

"...two tickets to see my one and only one-man special and singalong spectacular, I Envelop You in Darkness: Charlotte Cuulhorne, the Tender Rose!"

"This sucks," said Ichigo flatly from the stands, weaving his head left and right to dodge as the Rukongai residents divested themselves of everything they possessed to hurl it at Cuulhorne. "Do I _ever_ get to enjoy a single fucking day of peace? I knew I should have joined Ginjou," he joked.

"Stop whining, it could be worse," replied Rukia sternly, though not without a trace of a smile. "You could be having to fight Aizen again!" she chuckled evilly.

"And now to oversee the festivities before the momentous first match begins, here comes..." Cuulhorne paused dramatically once more, waiting for the black box at the stadium's center dais to dissipate and shatter. "Aizen Sousuke!"

Rukia didn't miss a beat as she thrust her arm to block Ichigo from immediately falling to all fours.

"How can this beee!" cried Hitsugaya (coincidentally sitting next to Ichigo cough ratings cough), who had frozen Hinamori in a block of ice next to him for her own safety.

Aizen slicked back his hair tendril and took Cuulhorne's soul megaphone, the old ultaconfident smirk having never left his lips a single second of his imprisonment. "Well, the only ones who opposed my application to officiate over the tournament were the pre-slaughter Central 46! And when they temporarily released me for my hearing all the other candidates seem to have suffered the _most_ unfortunate complete and total mind warping."

Something was telling Ichigo Aizen had an ulterior motive, but he couldn't put his finger on what.

"Calm down, Toushirou-kun," said Kyouraku, patting him on the shoulder. "We've got Sousuke pegged with all manner of bugs and reiatsu limiters, the only harm he'll be bring today is to himself."

Hitsugaya sighed, relieved. "Are you absolutely certain?"

"Absolutely. Apart from when Aizen will be participating in the tournament, he'll be harmless as a bunny."

"FFFFFFUUUUUUUUUU-"

**GINJOU VS. GANJU: START THE FIGHTING!**

"Aren't you afraid?" Ginjou laughed. "I've got all of Ichigo's powers!"

Ganju looked at his fingernails disinterestedly. "Who, that two-bit punk? I eat losers like him for breakfiWHOA SHIT!"

And Ganju was on his feet tearing for dear life as Ginjou streaked across the battlefield like a pinball. Whether Ginjou was batting away at imaginary hidden bugs and sensors, or he was just getting higher and higher on the prospect of lulz, could not be ascertained by Mayuri's dedicated team of observers (though they did manage to jot down that he farted at least twice while he was zipping around like a maniac, and that the farts were redolent of ramen with a hint of speed).

"GETSUGA mmTENSHOUUUUUU!" Ginjou reared up his sword like a baseball pitcher and lobbed the massive energy slash.

"At this rate my fight's gonna be boring," pouted Ichigo.

"Not going to double over in anguish over it, are you?" Rukia teased.

"I'm thinking about it."

"Ganju-kun! Watch out!" shouted Orihime, weeping already.

"...His name is _Ginjou_," corrected Ichigo, having already utterly forgotten Ganju despite the fact that he was looking directly at him a couple of seconds ago.

The Getsuga collided with Ganju square across the abs and he hurtled back forty yards, smashed like a bug against the translucent barrier for all the spectators to gawk at.

Ganju, far from down and out, simply gave his admirers a thumbs-up and a sideways, broken smile. "Puh!" he spat. "Just as planned!"

The fireworks fell to the floor, fuses lit by Ginjou's attack.

"The more energy you set those fuses with, the EXPONENTIALLY bigger the fireworks!" Ganju clicked a little remote controller in his sleeve and the orb he'd left hovered right back to him and swallowed him up. "I have a feeling I'm going to appreciate the show as much as you guys are, gyahahahah!"

But as Ginjou himself would soon discover, losing three limbs and being on fire did not seem to diminish his own enjoyment of the fireworks. "PRETTY!" he hacked with boyish glee.

ROUND 1: GANJU WINS!

"Wait, why is Ginjou alive in the first place?" it dawned on Ichigo.

NEXT ROUND: STARRK VERSUS ISHIDA


	2. Why You Bad

**Chapter 2:** Starrk Vs. Ishida

Mayuri's sinister laboratory was a bit chilly in the morning.

He rubbed his hands and shut all the windows tight, he even sealed up the most microscopic of drafts with his tried and true slime. But nothing could keep the heat in; he supposed this creeping chill must be an odd side effect of his Space-Time Rape Machine as it thrummed into action, pounding the fabric of reality with its phallic piston.

"Kurotsuchi-_taichou_, we've just got the test results back!" said a junior 12th squad intern (#607) as he handed Mayuri the documents. Mayuri swiveled in his chair as he licked his fingers and leafed through them.

"And? How are the specimens faring?" Mayuri asked, clicking his long fingernail casually against his desk—which meant "fetch me a coffee."

"All the Arrancar you wanted alive are still in their tubes for the moment, but they're showing remarkable progression! With the exception of Yammy Riyalgo, who…"

_Pound pound pound pound pound_

"Uh, captain… I thought we'd scrapped that machine, for the plan?"

The Space-Time Rape Machine had nothing whatsoever to do with Mayuri's mass resurrection scheme. Mayuri simply liked having space-time a little raped every morning.

"Fuck's my coffee?" Mayuri growled.

"—

Too late. A final tap of his fingernail and the junior trainee's head immediately imploded into a singularity, the rest slumping lifeless.

"Probably should have asked him about Riyalgo before I killed him," Mayuri told himself, but he quickly jettisoned this ridiculous notion, since a high turnover of trainees was what fueled his scientific enterprise and promoted efficiency.

_Pound pound pound pound pound_

The familiar pounding of the piston jolted Mayuri's memory. "Oh, that's right, now I remember! I was tinkering with that Arrancar's head while in bed the other night. Nemu!"

"Yes, father?" Nemu teleported kneeling at his feet.

"The head implosion technique is still leaving more of a mess than is acceptable, kindly wipe the floor using 607's body while I make myself a little coffee and attach Yammy's head to his neck."

Mayuri strolled over to his bedroom and sure enough, there lay Yammy's massive noggin; in fact, it was hard to miss, since it took up around 93% of the room (2% was his _futon _and 3% was a prototype portable Mini Model Space-Time Rape Machine). A gaping slit down the forehead told Mayuri that he had been handling the vanquished Arrancar's brainmass towards _some_ end, but what exactly that was he could not recall. But now the head's purpose was to see battle screwed on the tiny decapitated neck of an intern.

It had been Mayuri who had raised a fuss to keep the tournament on schedule, despite Soul Society's recent spate of rather hard luck. And he'd lobbied hard to arrange the matchups, with partial success.

"Oh good, Nemu, you're here already, be a dear and pour me some coffee." Mayuri's pharaoh chin strap turned into a cup he could bring up to his mouth by jutting out his jaw.

"Yes, father." Nemu opened her mouth up wide and regurgitated the espresso—a glitch that was now a feature.

"Excellent work, Nemu," Mayuri grinned as he rewired individual nerves in Yammy's brain with plucks and twangs. "Though I have a feeling the tournament will be the thing to truly wake me up today."

Nemu's body temperature plunged now that the coffee had escaped her system, but her teeth chattering was lost to the

_Pound pound pound pound pound_

* * *

><p>The first Arrancar to be ushered from Mayuri's unholy resurrection tubes to the battle arena was Starrk, who, as the strongest of the Espada, was the first to awaken.<p>

"Dammit, I came to whip some _shinigami_ ass," Ishida kvetched. "I mean, I just don't know if my heart will be in this one. Where's Mayuri!"

Starrk stared. "...What _are_ you? You a human or what?"

The crowd waited with bated breath as the two sized each other up, bated breath not because they were seized with excitement but because Mayuri had injected the soul _dango _with an amazing array of exotic soul parasites.

"I mean, I kill Hollows for fun, I pick my teeth with 'em," continued Ishida airily. "One time I invited in a whole host of Hollows just to annihilate them all. But you? You don't look like you're even worth the time of day."

"Wow, Ishida is getting pretty good at smack talk," said Rukia.

"He was a bit rusty but he's come a long way," said Ichigo.

"...I _am_ a whole host of Hollows," said Starrk. "And frankly, as a single human soul you're not exactly what _I'd_ call a worthy opponent." Starrk sat down on his ass. "Can't we just… talk?" he asked, lethargic and lonely.

"HAHAhh! I knew you'd do that!" Ishida shouted.

"What, sit on my ass?"

The anti-Arrancar landmine (yeah, remember that?) activated, toasting Starrk nice and crispy.

Starrk spat out some soot and scratched his head. "Ugggh. Ow."

Ishida trained his shining arrow directly between Starrk's eyes. "Any last words?"

"Sure. _Kick about_, Los Lobos."

Starrk's gunslinger transformation reverted him to full power. From now on the firearms would do the talking.

Literally, in Starrk's case.

"Oh man, you had to release for a chump like this guy!" Starrk's guns were infused with the essence of his other half, the uncomfortably loli Arrancar Lilynette. (Lilynette _Gingerbuck_, if you really must know.)

But Starrk was ready with a new tactic to silence his irksome soul-twin. Coolly he raised a single finger to his lips and went shhhh. _I got this._

"I never realized your nose hairs were so long," she said, since as he shushed her he was still grasping that gun.

Ishida had never seen a spirit being with revolvers before. He wondered what sort of strange unfamiliar attacks Starrk might boast in his roster, and took a defensive stance with his bow-shield.

* * *

><p>Of course, Starrk's eclectic roster of attacks turned out to be LOTS OF BEAMS.<p>

"Parallel lines, parallel lines, draw the parallel lines to make the moneeeey! Yeah!" Kubo sang as he rocketed out about page a minute. His assistants pondered which rock anthem he was blasting into his ears that carried that beat. For lack of better things to do.

* * *

><p>Ishida was no stranger to dodging ceros; getting thrown into a pit of insanely advanced and grotesque Hollows was his father's idea of a therapeutic reprieve from training. These beams were coming fairly thick and fast, but they weren't anything lethal if he just broke a little sweat.<p>

The real consternation was that of the audience, which couldn't see what in the hell was going on. And hey, who knew so many Rukongai residents were epileptic?

"Run _circles_ around ya," Ishida panted. "Maybe you'd be better served launching paper airplanes those beams are so, huff, _pathetic."_ Ishida hid the stitch in his side.

"Admirable resolve," complimented Rukia from the stands. "With smack talk like that, he'll go places."

Starrk let up his beam spam for his final, unavoidable onslaught move. Dozens of explosive ghost wolves spawned beside him, snarling and gnashing their fangs of pure energy.

Starrk's glare of resignation clearly conveyed: _This is the end. I wish you had been stronger._

Oh, now it was _on._ "You know something? 'Pure energy' is just about the worst weapon to use against me."

The wolves pounced and sprinted towards the poor defenseless human. Half the crowd averted their eyes and braced themselves for the sounds of screaming and vicious explosions.

What they were met with instead was the heavenly hum of rushing spirit particles, coupled with the whimpering of a chorus of wolves.

"Before, you asked me who I am. Well now I'll tell you."

Ishida obliterated every trace of Starrk with a single gigantic shot, powered by the recombined energy of his own wolves.

"I's a Quincy, BEEITCH!" he crowed with a triumphal shove-up of the spectacles.

"And there he goes off the edge," said Rukia.

ROUND 2: ISHIDA WINS!

NEXT ROUND: KON VERSUS THAT STUFFED PIG GUY


	3. Pain Plush Dropper

**Chapter 3:** Kon Vs. That Stuffed Pig Guy

The day before the tournament

_The dim lights of the former Xcution base of operations flickered while Riruka played with her official Soul Society Shinigami Tournament hell butterfly, perched on her fingers, as she waited for that stuffed pig guy to pick up._

_Click. "Hello?"_

"_Greetings, stuffed pig guy."_

"_Hey, that's Mr. Pork to you! Wait…"_

"_I hope you know that the time it takes you to answer my calls counts towards your fifteen minutes," she threatened. "Now get your ass over here."_

"_But, but I can't come over, _oyabun_'s orders—"_

"_If you don't then I'm going to have to stuff you into an even cutesy wootsier little stuffy wumpkins, and then wouldn't your _oyabun_ find that interesting. Oh, and bring donuts." Riruka hadn't become quite as enamored with donuts as Ginjou was with ramen, but Orihime was determined to addict her. "We'll have two glazed and a… what is it a girl like you eats? Creatine donuts?"_

"_Tell me again why I'm supposed to like her?" Tatsuki sighed._

"_Don't doubt my tried and true Friendification process! You've seen how Harribel's been undergoing some _outstanding_ behavioral therapy!"_

"_You basically just had Ichigo convince her to eat Hollows instead of human souls," said Tatsuki._

_And boy was Ichigo grateful he'd pulled that one off._

"_And when we invite Harribel over for some Dance Dance at the arcade everybody seems to have trouble taking their eyes off her."_

_The fat yakuza guy arrived at the dank Fullbringer HQ in record time, skidding to a halt on a stolen scooter._

"_I got three glazed, I even added sprinkles!" he breathed, rushing in with bag in hand._

"_You think ours are figures that can support eating sprinkles!" Riruka seethed, swinging her hips to the side. "Tell him Orihime!"_

"_Thank you so much for coming!" Orihime gave the yakuza a bow._

_Mr. Pork was so taken aback by Orihime's genuine niceness he almost forgot to have an erection, but Tatsuki's roundhouse to the gut soon assured him that his nethers had indeed sprung to attention._

"_Oh thanks, you saved me from a spot of bother," said Riruka. "Won't have to bear his squeals." She flicked her heart power at the fat drooling thug, shrinking him down and infusing him into the pig plushy._

"_A marked improvement, I should think."_

"_Why do we need to bring this creep again?" asked Tatsuki, a bit nauseated by the whole affair._

"_When Ginjou discovered his badge was a monitoring device, Soul Society tried a different direction." Riruka explained at length._

"_You're kidding. Fluoridated water!" Tatsuki looked aghast. All those conspiracy theories were still off the mark, but their only miscalculation was the perpetrator._

"_A single solitary sip and Seireitei's science department's got you in their sights for days," said Riruka. "Why do they want this little dude?" Riruka gave poor Mr. Pork a squeeze squeeze._

"_Because he's secretly a robot from the future." Orihime nodded sagely._

"…_No. Because this shinigami tournament has been repurposed as a PR stunt, with a focus on entertainment value. And if I don't go… well, let's just say Soul Society isn't exactly tripping over themselves to absolve criminals."_

_As if on cue, in came Rukia (in her _gigai_ so Tatsuki could see her better), also with donuts. "I'm baaack," she called, slinging her coat over her shoulder. Ever since Ichigo had regained the ability to see her, she'd enjoyed spending time on Earth with her friends immensely. Though she couldn't for the life of her understand what Orihime saw in Riruka, she was willing to let the lion's share of her animosity towards Riruka if it meant more arcades and karaoke—the finest friendship venues Japan had to offer. "Oh, are we all ready to head off so soon?"_

_Rukia couldn't help it, her expression turned sour. It was maybe not the best afterlife when good old Earth was preferable in every way._

"_It won't be all bad," smirked Riruka unsettlingly. "It's the law of the jungle. We special people are in the minority, so we're weak. And of course Soul Society is keeping an eye on us, to keep us down. But if I manage to stow away as many shinigami into dolls as possible, that's the power balance shifted, isn't it?"_

"_That's sick," said Rukia—sure, the shinigami corps in general were not a shining beacon of ethical integrity, but she had plenty of shinigami friends as well._

_However, Orihime seemed okay with this plan. Rukia suspected she just wanted to see Ichigo in doll form._

"_Don't worry, _I'll_ be the one keeping an eye on _her_," said Tatsuki, giving Riruka a vigorous noogie._

"_HEY!" Riruka would rather die than be disheveled for more than a few seconds (on the whole she rather overestimated her own cuteness), so Tatsuki would prove herself quite the effective counter to Riruka's diabolical plan._

"_Arisawa-san, are you certain you're ready to handle Soul Society?" Rukia had to ask._

"_If an airhead like Orihime can survive, I sure as hell can," Tatsuki grinned._

_Rukia's smile returned. "All right then. Off to Urahara's."_

_The hell butterfly landed on Rukia's head._

* * *

><p>Where had Kon been during the entire Fullbringer arc? Why, where else: chillaxing in Soul Society. He was no longer needed on Earth, and here he could amble freely through the streets, staring up as many skirts as was feasible.<p>

Unfortunately for Kon, there were no upskirts when one was dueling to the death. Though, it had to be said, what Kon dreaded most was not his almost certain demise, but Charlotte's commentary.

"And now for a face-off for the ages!" Charlotte announced. "Aizen-sama, your lordliness, if you could sound the gong?"

Aizen did so, never for a second tearing his line of sight from Ichigo, who was shifting in his seat over in the stands. Ichigo gulped.

**START THE FIGHTING!,** screamed the gong.

"If you think you're gonna make me kiss the pavement, you've got another thing coming, pal!"

Mr. Pork landed a solid uppercut on Kon's gob, and it would have hurt like a motherfucker but for the fact that both our combatants were far too soft and cuddly to inflict any actual damage.

Kon pondered his options. He could maybe sweep the pig's legs and pin its neck so he could try twisting his adorable plushy head off. Perhaps a double chop to the abdomen followed by a dropkick, or a seismic toss suplex and a claw to each eye?

Upon careful consideration, Kon chose his shrewdest course of action and executed his master plan as Mr. Pork loomed bigger and meaner before him.

It was time to start digging. How long would it be before he fell through the vortex of existence back to Earth? He hoped he landed on some boobs.

Mr. Pork lifted Kon up by the legs and shook him, like a true yakuza. To the Porkster's surprise, a little pill rolled out of the lion's mouth.

"Uhh… he stopped moving. Does that mean I win?"

_Say yes say yes say yes say yes,_ thought the pill desperately.

"Aizen-sama, your call!" announced Charlotte.

"The soul remains, inside the pill," said Aizen. "And anyone whose soul hasn't been obliterated still has a chance at a comeback, at REVENGE, don't they? Kurosaki Ichigo."

Aizen's hair tendril swung to a point and accused Ichigo.

"I've known about you since the day you STARTED TO SUCK!" Ichigo jeered, cupping his hands.

"Sit back down!" said Rukia. "You're disturbing everyone!"

"HE'S disturbing everyone!" Ichigo shot back.

"Look, you knocked this poor lady's popcorn out of her hands, you oaf,' said Rukia.

"Thass not popcorn, cutey. Them's my teefs!" gummed the old lady contentedly.

"…Oh." Rukia blushed.

"You okay, grandma?" asked Hitsugaya.

Meanwhile, Mr, Pork picked up the pill, and, unable to put a dent in it, ate it.

What ensued was an epic clash of two intelligences over a single… _intelligences?_ Ha.

The pig doll danced spastically as their souls wrestled for control. (Charlotte misinterpreted this as the pig trying to commit suicide from grief, but that didn't stop him from playing up the cutesiness of it all).

_I've got so much to live for!_ the yakuza wept. _I was supposed to meet for tea with my _oyabun's_ daughter today! Do you _know_ how fine that ass is!_

Kon was overwhelmed by the yakuza's plaintive perversion, and could not fight on against such a noble character. The pig doll spat up his pill once again.

Mr. Pork pumped his fist to the azure sky, his first true victory in life.

Then Giriko's timer ticked down to the zero mark and Mr. Pork turned into a pot roast, devoid of life.

"God is great!" Giriko exclaimed, sitting with the rest of the Fullbringers (sans Tsukishima) in the stands. "What? I was hungry."

ROUND 3: MR. PORK WINS, BUT THEN DIES ANYWAY!

Aizen pushed the modsoul pill back in Kon's mouth, as was his duty as officiator.

"Later, you're going to tell me about what it's like being in Ichigo's body," he whispered.

But Kon knew he had chips in this negotiation. "Only if you tell me the whereabouts of one Tear Harribel."

* * *

><p>The yakuza woke up as a bona fide soul in one of Rukongai's dingier hovels.<p>

He raised his head weakly and looked around, but he was having trouble making out his surroundings due to the buzzing swarm of hell flies.

"Fuck."

* * *

><p>Editor-sensei chomped on his cigar and stared blankly at the "name" sketch of the chapter.<p>

"Kubo," he said at last. "When I told you that a tournament arc would let you use every character, that doesn't mean you HAVE to use every character. Kon versus the pig guy? Really?"

"It's a gag chapter," said Kubo, fingers steepled confidently.

Editor felt like blurting out that every chapter from he received Kubo was a fucking gag chapter, but he was better than that. No-With his next cigar, he would be better than that.

"Okay, fine, Kubo, fine. Just keep in mind that the anime team can fully realize matches you might like to skip in canon! Save some characters for the studio to play with."

"So you mean the next chapter shouldn't be Rikichi versus Umesada Toshimori?"

"Next chapter, I want you to be a ratings whore."

NEXT ROUND: HITSUGAYA VERSUS BARRAGAN


	4. The Ice Demise

**Chapter 4: Hitsugaya vs. Barragan**

Many moons past, on the naked sands of fear

_Scores of Adjuchas knelt before their invincible liege as the King of Hueco Mundo proclaimed each his knight, charging them with the momentous duty of direct worship and due tribute._

_The Vasto Lorde sampled ever more magnanimous names aloud, clacking his skull-like mask to their sound. "Barragan the Eternal Sovereign, perhaps? No, too wordy," he concluded as he received from Choe Neng Poww, a whale Adjuchas who in the future would be his Fraccion, a few threads of his soul-baleen (and, by breaking off a piece of himself, thereby ensuring he could never evolve further apart from Arrancarification)._

"_How about simply: Barragan the Ageless?" While most old souls were at least a little self-conscious about their age, Barragan proclaimed his supremacy over fickle "time" far and wide._

_An insect Adjuchas genuflected and Barragan snapped off its bulbous, hollow, hornlike protrusion (presumably a crest for sound attacks). The king's touch immediately aged the Hollow and reduced it to its pathetic, infantile end, but Barragan was too busy attaching the baleen strings to the horn to register he's accidentally killed one of his subjects._

_Barragan strummed the strings of the weird instrument he'd irreverently slapped together from the willingly sacrificed appendages of his fearful subjects._

_As the crowned spectral skeleton held the instrument and felt its power coursing though his bones, he knew what his name would be, and breathed it with abyssal frost:_

_Barragan, the SOUL KING._

* * *

><p>"Kubo."<p>

"Yes, sensei?" he replied innocently.

"Kubo, this time I want _you_ to tell _me_ what's wrong here."

Kubo flipped through the _name_ draft absently. "Too little white space, shouldn't have wasted so much ink," he guessed. He had run up quite the tab at art supply stores on just ink.

Editor put out his cigar in the ashtray; had Kubo been wearing sunglasses, Editor might not have resisted the urge to put it out in Kubo's eye.

"Let's put it this way, my friend. I love ya to death." Editor surreptitiously bit his lip. "But don't you think that new development's just a mite… plagiarismy?"

Kubo blinked, but behind those shades his look of umbrage was lost. "What are you talking—"

"How long did it take you to timeskip after Oda timeskipped?"

"What? Are you insinuating—"

"How long?"

"About a month, but—"

"And what came of that timeskip? What did that timeskip contribute to the plot that couldn't have happened, say, a mere week after Aizen was defeated?"

"That sword that gave Ichigo his powers back took that long to prepare!"

"You wrote that _after the fact,_" Editor fired back. "How long after Hody Jones took too many steroids and morphed into a white-haired monster did it take for Ginjou to become a white-haired freak?"

"This is ridiculous, those are just coincidences," said Kubo. "I'm not cribbing from One Piece!"

"Look, I'm not saying you're plagiarizing on _purpose_, it's just, I think you're too impressionable and you sort of semi-consciously incorporate aspects of other series into your work. It happens to the best of us, but you _have_ to check yourself. I don't want to police your every decision, and I sure as hell don't want you to end up having to take marching orders from your editor. I want you to blaze your own path, and work hard on infusing your brainchild with something unique, content that can only come from within _you_."

"I may have let outside influences creep into the story recently," he admitted, flattered that his editor believed his inner self had what it took. He sounded excited, as though he were finally trusted to pull the series along by his own skill. "I know, I'll start putting in more band names and references as abilities—"

"JoJo's Bizarre Adventure," Editor reminded him.

"And maybe I'll introduce another former substitute shinigami—"

"Yu Yu Hakusho."

"Why don't I come back to you on what my inner self thinks."

* * *

><p>As Barragan (in unreleased mustachioed Mexican geezer form) toted his giant axe onto the battlefield, the Rukongai residents cheered—finally, someone they could root for.<p>

Charlotte prostrated himself before his erstwhile Espada master. Aizen may have removed Charlotte's mask and revealed his gorgeous, sensational face to all, but his first loyalty would always be to the highest king, Death incarnate. There was beauty in darkness.

Barragan, meanwhile, mocked Aizen openly. "Hey Aizen, did you misplace your key? Didn't you say you were going to unlock the realm of the Soul King! The only Soul King YOU'RE ever going to lay eyes on, is ME! Aren't you lucky!"

But Aizen didn't care. His primary objective at the moment was to shoot glances at Hinamori (still frozen), then back at Hitsugaya, then make subtle stabbing motions with his (much loved) index finger.

"Nope, not gonna happen," said Hitsugaya serenely, applying yet another depressant-patch to his arm (next to its seven neighbors). This was to suppress his chronic Aizen-onset murderous rage.

Aizen's finger stabbed the air more vigorously and he nodded, nigh imperceptibly, and always with that unflappable smirk. _It's totally going to happen._

"Nuh uh, nope." Depressant-patches #s 9, 10, and 11. He wiped the strange liquid welling in his eyes and looked away from Aizen towards the audience, beaming.

"BOOOOOOO!" Though Hitsugaya was raised in the Rukongai, to the crowd this was ultimately a clash of Young vs. Old.

"I'm sure I have fans somewhere out there," said Hitsugaya.

Aizen sounded the **START THE FIGHTING!** gong and Charlotte, playing to the crowd, wasted no time casting the god of death as the determined underdog with a heart of gold, and Hitsugaya as the cold elitist.

"Boy!" He swung his axe. "What can you accomplish against DEATH ITSELF! Hold on, you don't happen to know any transportation _kidou_ do you?"

"…No."

"Then what can you accomplish against DEATH ITSELF!"

"Hyourinmaru!" Hitsugaya barreled forward and bade the ice dragon smash into his opponent, who froze in place.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Release."

"Cheeky brat," Barragan sneered. "I pity you who harbor not the wisdom of ages! Worry not, for soon I shall embrace you."

"Eww." Hitsugaya shivered at the thought of _growing up._ "I deal with old people all fucking day, and let me tell you, they're not exactly winning awards for intelligence in this lifetime. Or any, for that matter."

Barragan's release incantation doubled as an imperious taunt. "_Rot, _Arrogante._"_

Death had donned his reaper's cloak, and the block of ice melted away instantly.

"BANKAI!" Hitsugaya donned his… ice fairy's cloak? His cloak of _winter's savage broad-winged elemental dragon_. In an instant the arena became encased in a solid sheet.

"All will melt," Barragan taunted. "All will evaporate."

Barragan's mere presence caused the ice to break up and crack as entropy took hold.

"Maybe so. But so long as we're in this arena, that water isn't going anywhere," retorted Hitsugaya confidently.

Which is when Barragan fell to his bony knees and began slurping up the water. "As Soul King, I claim this water!" he averred, followed by a regal _flissshul_ noise.

"What the fuck, you planning on just drinking up my ice forever?" Hitsugaya balked as he kept whipping the stadium up fresh new coats.

"All water is now property of the one and only Barragan Luisenbarn!"

"You, have got, to be…" Hitsugaya spun his dragon overhead. "KIDDING ME!"

But Barragan drank his dark little heart away. Las Noches was never exactly overrun with streams, and so drinking was a pleasant new sensation for him.

And so the two top-level reapers of souls were locked in the lamest of eternal combat, as Hitsugaya's reiatsu replenished as soon as it was spent and Barragan's belly was bottomless. And neither entity could really age, either.

An hour passed. And another.

"My arms are getting tired," whined Hitsugaya.

"HA!" Barragan cackled. "I have you at last."

"I said they're tired, not out of commission."

And the crowd mutinied, clamoring for Hitsugaya to just give up already. Hitsugaya wished Hinamori were unfrozen enough to cheer him on.

"This is taking too long!" said Kon, who took the initiative and rang the gong to end the battle. "You're both kicked out of the tournament!"

"Wha? On what grounds?" Hitsugaya didn't want to think this had all been a massive waste of time.

"On the grounds of sheer boredom."

ROUND 4: BOTH DISQUALIFIED!

NEXT ROUND: TATSUKI VERSUS ICHIGO


	5. Sleeping, Deeplying

**Chapter 5:** Tatsuki vs. Ichigo

Kubo opened the letter.

_[From your hugest fan,]_. Aww.

_[When in the sam hell will you get to the Isshin flashback, the only thing I care about anymore? Stop wasting our time with this Fullbringer fullbullsh]_

Kubo binned the letter.

"Okay, maybe I shouldn't introduce so many new characters in this arc," Kubo conceded. In a recent trip to the restroom he'd sketched out twelve new antagonists' designs, and rounded them off with single-adjective personality descriptions. They'd been slated to take the tournament by storm, but Editor had served up a few choice words for that plan.

And it was such a shame. A sizable percentage of the characters that could have been spoke to Kubo the same way Aizen had. One of them even had TWO hair tendrils and a pair of shades!

Then, a perfect plan.

All of a sudden Aizen was sporting shades. He also seemed to be a whole head taller, and his hair tendril now trailed all the way down to the base of his neck, where his black and white striped scarf would dazzle readers. Next chapter Kubo would feel particularly inspired, and the scarf would feature a zebraskin pattern. If Kubo couldn't introduce new characters, then he'd snazz up the existing ones.

* * *

><p>But when Tatsuki sauntered onto the battlefield, Aizen was not looking quite so cool.<p>

"I... I can't sense her reiatsu..." Aizen started sweating bullets, and with each step Tatsuki took Aizen retreated a step backwards. Could it be! Another mere human who _transcended_ him!

"What's with him?" Tatsuki asked.

Ichigo stretched his shoulders, cracked his knuckles, and smirked cockily. "I dunno. Guess he's just a down and out loser now."

Ichigo had eschewed his sword for this fight. It would be Vale Tudo, no holds barred fisticuffs, Ichigo's true fighting prowess. And now that he he'd earned his place as a kingpin of high school punks, there was no way Tatsuki was going to take him down.

"Beauty! Versus! Brawn! And what a beauty he is," Charlotte giggled, but not without an apprehensive half-glance at his former god-master. Once again it was Kon who would ring the gong and start the fight, as Aizen was rather preoccupied with gnashing his teeth and closing up his sphincter muscles at the sight of Tatsuki.

**START THE FIGHTING!**

In an instant Ichigo's smug grin evaporated and he found himself indulging the one dull thought screaming in his brain, run, _run!_ It was the same instinct that overwhelmed him during the infamous Tsukishima apologyfest.

"Uhh... okay," said Tatsuki, who wasn't about to chase after him.

Aaaaand Ichigo was on all fours.

"That's within the minute mark, that'll be 10 coins, thanks." Rukia collected from a sorely disappointed Yachiru.

"Why did Kenny like that dipshit again?" Yachiru sighed.

"Don't look now."

Now Ichigo was spewing random shounen cliches. "It's... so heavy... this burden!"

"...Wha?" Tatsuki didn't know what to do. Was Ichigo _like_ this now?

"I didn't want to win this way!" Ichigo bawled. "Somebody cut off my arm and leg, quickly!"

"I'd be more than happy to oblige!" shouted Ginjou, whose gaping wounds a cadre of medic shinigami were healing for summary execution. "I'll do your eyes too, hee hee!"

Next chapter

"All right, let's DO this!" Ichigo was now perfectly fine, and pumped for the battle. Tatsuki now understand firsthand the full impact of melodramatic mood swings and/or false dramatic tension.

Tatsuki drew up to him slowly. "Ichigo... it doesn't have to be this way."

Shining tear marks were still fresh on Ichigo's cheeks as he smiled and laughed and shifted on his feet and gave the air a good ol' one-two. "Haha, what are you talking about, Tatsuki? C'mon let's FIGHT!"

"Stop it, Ichigo. The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem."

Tatsuki effortlessly deflected Ichigo's jab and hugged Ichigo tightly.

"Can I?" sobbed Orihime, covering her eyes as her two bestest friends went at each other's throats.

"Gonna go out on a limb here and say the current situation won't repulse you, no," said Rukia.

Tatsuki patted poor wartorn Ichigo on the head. "It's all right, sh sh shh, it's all right."

"Mommy?" Ichigo squeaked. Ichigo seemed to be suffering mental age regression, his ramshackle psyche coming apart at the seams as his mind was bombarded with images of how Tatsuki would always knock him on his ass as a kid.

"No, silly, it's your friend Tatsuki! And you don't have to fight anymore, if you don't want to! You just leave this tournament to me," she boasted with a fire in her eyes. "You've done enough fighting for the rest of your life."

And Ichigo fell into the fetal position, sucking his thumb in total peace.

The only reason the audience didn't storm out was Aizen's joining Ichigo, curled up right beside him. Tatsuki had just reduced the two strongest beings in existence into babies without throwing a single punch.

ROUND 5: TATSUKI WINS!

NEXT ROUND: KENPACHI VERSUS HOLLOW ICHIGO


	6. Grine My Detractilance

**Ch. 6:** Kenpachi vs. Hollow Ichigo

The majority of the time Kubo spent on his series focused on coming up with a cool chapter name.

English dictionary in hand, he skimmed through the pages in search of any word that appealed to him.

"The Vivacious Giggle," or maybe "Can't Serene the Heat Maestro."

But he wasn't feeling it today, so he decided to simply make up some words.

This chapter would be entitled... _Grine My Detractilance._

Kubo threw up his hands at his own brilliance, which radiated from the page, through Kubo's shades, directly into the pleasure centers of his brain.

Yes, there would be quite a few Grine My Detractilances-three months' worth.

* * *

><p>As Ichigo and Aizen were unceremoniously wheeled off into their respective isolation chambers for Soul Society-style "therapeutic darkness," Urahara swiped Ichigo's sword.<p>

"Haha, remember _this_ thing, Ichigo?" Urahara hugged his soul cutter manifestation dummy with one arm. "Your inner Hollow is always entwined with your sword, so all it took was a little tweaking and voila!'

Urahara stabbed the dummy with the new Zangetsu, and Ichigo's inner Hollow was temporarily deposited into the dummy.

"Isn't it great? Your other half finally gets to fight in your stead!"

"Ahh, finally!" Hollow Ichigo cricked his neck. "No more rain! Time to make up for lost time, and kill EVERYBODY! You hear that, Ichigo? Everybody. STONE DEAD."

Ichigo mumbled incoherently; it was hard to respond while Tessai was packing him and Aizen into the trunk of a soul-Cadillac, with Yamamoto barking "Faster, stuff 'em in, c'mooon use your elbow!"

Charlotte was about to say something, but Yachiru snatched the microphone and sat on Charlotte's shoulder to announce the match herself. "Get your cotton candy now, folks, because the fight of the age is about to ignite! The invincible Ken-chan versus the REAL Kurosaki Ichigo!"

"I've been dying to fight you for years now." Zaraki removed his eyepatch and exploded with pure power. "Don't disappoint."

"You've _been_ dying? You'll BE dying!" Hollow Ichigo guffawed. "I've got all of Ichigo's strength, all of his drive, and all of his bloodlust. And that wimp, he beat you with just a _taste_ of my power!"

"Bring it on, you clown," Yachiru jeered. "Before I kick some dirt on you and turn you back into regular Ichigo!"

"I'm also far more creative than Ichigo," Hollow Ichigo gloated. He swung Zangetsu's shikai form overhead into a whirling death razor.

"Don't tell me you need a gimmick to defeat me," said Zaraki.

"Wait... hold on..." Hollow Ichigo huffed.

Yes! Liftoff! Hollow Ichigo's sandles left the dust and dirt of the arena.

"I HAVE TRANSCENDED YOU, ICHIGOOOOOO!"

"I take it you have something to prove," said Zaraki, who struck the helicoptering lad down with a single slash-wave. "What a load."

"BANKAI!" Hollow Ichigo ululated. "Try to land a hit on me NOW!"

Dozens of afterimages danced around Kenpachi, Hollow Ichigo blazing red and laughing, laughing.

"SUPER super speed!"

"Anything else?" Kenpachi scratched his forehead.

"YES! My ultimate attack, which is the opposite of lame old Getsuga Tenshou in every way!"

And by '"different in every way," he meant it was the opposite color.

"Shouten Gatsuge!" The energy slash filled up two entire spreads, because it was gigantic and white and Kubo didn't have to draw anything except sound effect kana (which, if you're interested, was DO GIIIIIIIRG).

The dust cleared. The Gatsuge definitely drew blood, but beyond that, no effect.

"You must be rusty," Zaraki intoned. "We'll fight again when you've had more practice."

"Ha! You're tough, I'll give you that, but there's still no way you can get a bead on me!"

"You think that just because he took of his eyepatch he's at full capacity? Shaaame, you're no better than the other Ichigo," Yachiru mocked. "Don't you fret, ladies and gentlemen, Kenny has something special in store for this afternoon, isn't that right?"

Zaraki grunted.

"Something that won't need something stupid like _both hands_."

"Yeees?" called his admirers in the stands.

"Something that requires total harmony with his sword!"

"Yeeeeeeees?"

"Here it comes," said Kenpachi, jagged blade infused with killer resolve. "BAN-"

The audience gasped.

"-QUET! Of PAIN!"

Kenpachi ripped off one of his hair-stalks, tied it to the hilt of his sword, and started swinging it overhead, just like Hollow Ichigo had.

"YOU FUCKING TEASE!" More concession stand snacks joined the blood and dirt splattering the protective barrier.

Zaraki cut a swath around him, making it impossible for Hollow Ichigo to duck under his guard and score a point blank slash.

"I give up." Hollow Ichigo fell on all fours, panting. "Don't want to break all my bones."

"I knew it, you love your cushy life inside Ichigo!" Yachiru poked him in the head repeatedly (about 50 times a second).

Urahara was sure glad Aizen wasn't around to react to _that_ line.

"So... tired... want... NACHOS!"

"Huh?"

"Whenever Ichigo's sad, it rains, but when he's happy... his world is filled with nachos."

Hollow Ichigo cried plaintively, pining for his underappreciated life inside Ichigo. And, sure enough, rain began shooting out of Hollow Ichigo's every orifice with the force of twenty fire hoses.

"Uhh, yeah, he's technically not supposed to be in this realm! Sorry folks!" Urahara used his cane to slam Hollow Ichigo back into Zangetsu where he belonged.

The barrier _kidou_ shinigami were elated Hollow Ichigo had cleaned up the mess for them, and spent the rest of the day carousing and betting on who'd win the following morning.

ROUND 6: KENPACHI WINS!

NEXT ROUND: INTERLUDE


	7. Grine My Detractilance 2

CH. 7: INTERLUDE 1

It was the end of the first day of matches, and everyone was trolling around Seireitei having a good time. The citadel got stodgy and boring pretty quickly, and so the fresh arrival of unhinged eccentrics was greeted as a welcome change by local fodder shinigami, who treated many of the future combatants to rounds at soul-pubs. The Fullbringer gang in particular was a riot when liquored up.

Ginjou, his limbs regenerated, had managed to convince his executioner-medics to take him to the best restaurant in town for a final meal to remember, and the rest of the erstwhile members of Xcution followed him there to the acclaimed Cicada Bar and Soul-Eatery (including Giriko, who needed some booze after contemplating the strangeness of drafting a contract with the god of time to eat a pot roast that used to be a _yakuza_forcibly stuffed inside a plush pig in order to train Ichigo to channel his soul into the substitute badge that his former leader despised)-so named because of Tousen's legendary drinking prowess.

And who should be inside enjoying a pint with friends but Ganju and Hanatarou!

"This time-no water. Take it straight," Ganju dared.

"Uhh... I don't suppose hangovers _also_make you more courageous?" Hanatarou hoped. He was not looking forward to his fight with Hinamori the next day.

"Peach-flavored, just for the occasion," Ganju chuckled, red-faced and leery-eyed.

Ginjou always liked to put his best foot forward, and he always used the following foolproof icebreaker.

"Shiba Ganju... Are you _quite certain_your father isn't an evil manipulator bent on deceiving and exploiting you?"

Ganju drew back a seat beside the counter for Ginjou. "You want to talk evil, let's talk about my _sister_. Barkeep, five shots of soul-brandy for my buddy here!"

The barkeep-a brawny outdoorsy type with an apron and without teeth-took one look at Giriko and blanched. Never would he look so perfect for the job as he.

Giriko felt an animal instinct to grab the rag and start wiping mugs, but the barkeep swiped it and ducked out of sight.

Meanwhile, Riruka was glomping a cadre of quite inebriated shinigami and showing them her absolutely "cuteriffic" plushy collection.

"And this, is Mr. Pterodactyl!" she simpered, retrieving each of her collectibles from the hatch on her chest. "Wouldn't you just _adore_ being embraced by Mr. Pterodactyl _fowever and ever!"_

"Uhh... maybe not forever and ever..." said the flustered shinigami in whose face she was so casually shoving the plushy.

"Wouldn't you... like, oh my god, just beg for the chance to live _inside_ Mr. Pterodactyl?" she suggested brightly. "I bet _everybody_would find living inside plushies just, the best!"

"Better than Soul Society," Jackie joked as she passed by Riruka's table (full of shinigami both male and female who were edging slowly away) to deliver a dirty boot to Yukio's skull.

"OW! Is that any way to treat your future employer!"

"Shut up and start drinking, or I make my boot even stronger grinding that stupid PSP under my heel."

"But, but... Ridge Racer!" he objected.

"Jeesh, where's the barkeep when you need him?" asked Jackie.

"It appears he is cowering behind the counter," said Giriko.

"Why don't you set a timer or something: if he doesn't give us all free drinks, he bursts into flame."

"Relax... time tells no lies," he replied, spinning his stopwatch. "Isn't that right, Barkeep?"

Suddenly, a demonic chill.

"As Soul King, my first stake is... this bar!" His Arrogance hiccuped and swayed, drunk on... water.

The establishment froze in abject terror.

Wreathed in darkness and radiating necrotic majesty, so called the reaper of reapers: "I'll take your cheapest wine!"

Stares and whispers.

"Behold!" Barragan exercised his power and aged the bottle. It was now roughly six hundred years old.

The _ka-ching_in Yukio's mind was virtually audible. "Say partner, art thou amenable to a business proposition?"

"Will I get to drink?"

"Only with me!" said one lonely god to the other.

And as Giriko and Barragan clinked frothing mugs of ale and argued well into the wee hours over who here was the _real_time god, Ginjou pathologically lied to everyone about things he had no reason to lie about, Riruka continued to pitch the idea of living inside plushies, and Ganju exhorted Hanatarou to go on, break that bottle RIGHT OVER MY NOSE, Jackie could only marvel at how everyone was having way too much fun to notice that the Barkeep was trailing behind her boots furiously wiping the floor.

"Say, now that a literal god of death has joined our number," Ginjou told his executioner-medics, "I don't suppose you _shinigami_ would eschew my _execution_ in favor of _Xcution_?"

Slurred one of them, a rather mousy middle-aged woman: "Surre, why not? Soul Society hasn't exactly been the most exciting place on Earth."

"Yeah, and when it _is_exciting, it's the wrong kind," complained another of his executioners, a bald man who due to immoderate drink had let slip he found Jackie rather attractive.

"Don't forget the benefits—Soul Society has!"

The fourth executioner raised her mug, hip hip, "FUCK SOUL SOCIETY!"

And so the new Xcution was formed.

* * *

><p>Urahara's training space in the mountains. The black cat called Yoruichi purred on Tessai's lap as he meditated, and Isshin pored over his Sudoku with his reading glasses.<p>

"Jinta, this is Shishigawara-kun, and he's going to be working with us. Say hi, Jinta." Urahara nudged him with his cane. "Say _hi,_Jinta."

"Hi," said Shishigawara.

"Heh-hi," Jinta mumbled.

As delinquent punks, their adrenaline levels shot straight through the roof whenever they so much as acknowledged each other's existence. Therefore, having to formally introduce themselves was akin to torture, but the alternative was getting pummeled by Ururu.

"Shishigawara-kun's here to help us with our new business, Fast Track Upgrades!"

"'Fast Track Upgrades'? What does that mean?" squeaked Ururu.

"Isshin and I have been talking, and we've come to the conclusion that maybe all of Soul Society's crises shouldn't be piled on a 15-year-old boy's shoulders quite so… 100% of the time."

"He's 17 now. I think," corrected Isshin.

"So we're launching an affordable business model that'll have every shinigami in Seireitei as 'transcendant' as Ichigo in just a couple of years!" Urahara opened his fan in fevered anticipation.

"I keep telling them, Soul Society isn't exactly an entrepreneur's dream market," purred Yoruichi. "It's about as dead here as it gets."

"We'll expand to Earth eventually," said Urahara.

"And where does this kid fit in?" shouted Jinta. "I thought Ururu and I were the brawn of our operation!"

"His ability, Jackpot Knuckle, is something of a guarantor of our success."

"We could always advertize," piped up Ururu diplomatically.

"Actually, I thought Yoruichi might help us with that," said Urahara.

Yoruichi transformed while still on Tessai's lap, causing him to jolt out of his meditation to find her cross-legged sitting on his crotch. "Sex sells," she said, indicating Tessai's blush with her thumb. "At this rate I'm these buffoons' only hope to give Soul Society a little rigor mortis."

Shishigawara nearly jumped out of his skin. Briefly, he wondered whether punching himself until he knocked his teeth out would get him lucky enough.

Jinta could only roll his eyes. "I get it, you don't need us anymore! Well that's fine-"

"Hold your horses, tiger." Isshin lifted Jinta up by the head. "Your input is very important. Without you, we can't get up off the ground!"

Jinta let his bat clatter to the floor and crossed his arms. "I'm listening."

"What our company needs from you, Jinta, is a good, proper name."

* * *

><p>Ichigo coughed—it was the only thing he could do. As the holding cell began to drench with gushing torrents of his mother's blood, he realized he might have overestimated the power of total darkness to finally grant him peace of mind.<p>

Then, a smirk broke through—Aizen must be getting it a thousand times worse, what with all his heinous crimes.

Meanwhile, in the holding cell adjacent to Ichigo's, Aizen was chilling like a villain. His eyes were assailed with a million Hinamoris and ten million stabbings, but to Aizen these were comforting figments. He was no stranger to illusions, and he could wait millennia if he had to, just as he'd always done.

He _was_ getting a touch agitated, though. Not because all the Hinamoris skewered on his blade like _dango_were pricking his conscience, but because the promise of senseless betrayal made him all the more anxious to turn illusion into reality. In order to distract himself, Aizen thought he'd give Ichigo a mind-ring.

"_H_e_l_l_o_? T_h_i_s_ i_s_ K_u_r_o_s_a_k_i_ I_c_h_i_g_o_, _i_s _i_t _n_o_t_?"

Ichigo reeled in his chains as his consciousness melted into his inner world. Aizen's voice crackled from nowhere and everywhere; a light drizzle streaking across the windows from the vertical axis of clouds.

"It's raining again," said Hollow Ichigo, but not without a slight smirk.

The droplets soaked a single side of Ichigo's garb—it was quite a bizarre sight, this sideways rain. No amount of therapy would ever help him if his head was this weird_. _But then, this realm certainly beat sensory deprivation delirium.

"Trust me, man, just this once you don't want to take over," he told his Hollow self.

Aizen's voice resonated clearer. "Your inner world is quite interesting. These are called 'skyscrapers,' aren't they?"

Ichigo took a step back, but neither he nor his pale counterpart had Zangetsu in hand.

"Sorry, Zangetsu's a bit skittish to come see Sunshine over here," said Hollow Ichigo, pointing to Aizen's hazy figure sashaying towards them. "Last time you faced Captain Wonder Wings, you used a move that reduced Zangetsu to a shred—a shred that's only now rehabilitating since you reignited your shinigami spark."

"Yeah, well now it's my turn to protect him," bragged Ichigo. "We're still immune to your illusions, or did you forget, Leotard with Legs!"

But as Aizen came into view, it became increasingly obvious that he was not, in fact, wearing the pure white cocoon getup Ichigo so loved to mock. Or anything else, for that matter.

"I'd come up with some nasty names if you weren't so boring, Kurosaki."

Ichigo so wished he weren't immune to his illusions.

"Puking already, Kurosaki?" Aizen clucked. "I haven't even raised my spiritual pressure!"

Hollow Ichigo, on the other hand, merely whistled. "Not bad for 10,000 years old."

"I have reached the maximum potential in _every_field of shinigami performance."

"How did you even—"

"Your dearest confidant ratted out the secret of entering you," said Aizen.

"E-entering me?"

"Oh, get your mind out of the gutter." Aizen covered his pride with a spontaneously generated butterfly wing, which would serve as a loincloth for the time being.

"Don't look at me, I didn't tell him shit. He blacked out the same time you did," shrugged Hollow Ichigo.

"Oh, is this your Hollow half? _Enchanté. _I'd have brought my own, but _he's_so pale I'm afraid he'd blind us all."

"I don't take hands unless I'm ripping them off," said Hollow Ichigo.

"Are all your confidants this charming, Kurosaki?" asked Aizen.

"You bastard, just which of my friends did you—!"

"Oh, the small lion modsoul you call 'Kon.' He gave me the passcode to enter your mind."

Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief. Kon could rot in hellfire for all he cared. Then:

"…There's a passcode?"

"I'd tell you what it is, but it's not fit for polite company. Or-" He looked at Hollow Ichigo. "Mixed company."

Ichigo gritted his teeth. "What do you want with me?"

"I'm here to implant in your mind a subconscious trigger to stab one Hinamori Momo. You see, I'd like it best if she were impaled from every conceivable angle by everyone she trusts. I think I'll have you stab her in the eye, but only one, I want her to keep her other eye so she can see all the friends who've stabbed her."

"Ha! You've gone nuts. There's no way I'd ever do that."

"Yeah," Hollow Ichigo agreed. "Stabbing's not my style, I prefer slashing."

"How did you escape the prison?"

"It's just my body that's bound; my mind can wander freely. If my body weren't bound, well then, there simply wouldn't be any concealing my _glory_." Impossibly, Aizen's smile, smiled. "Say-What's a _longer_word than 'skyscraper'?"

Too much information. Ichigo wringed his hair. Too much information. On all fours he did fall.

"Anyway, let's put your determination to the test, Kurosaki Ichigo. I bet the lives of all of Karakura Town that you'll succumb to my subliminal command to kill Hinamori Momo."

As was now typical of Ichigo, he recovered from his mire of despair immediately and assumed a cocky grin.

"All right. And if I win—_when_ I win—you're going to live the rest of your eons as a law-abiding employee of Unagiya, and you'll be working under _me_."

"I imagine you _do_ take hands?"

"In lieu of other body parts."

* * *

><p>Tatsuki bade Hisagi farewell; he'd cast his former captain's teleportation <em>kidou<em>to take the young lass to Ichigo's asylum.

"You sure you don't want me to come help persuade them?"

"Don't worry," said Tatsuki. "I have my ways. Now get back to drinking with your blonde friend, he looked like he needed a steadfast partner in boozing."

Hisagi smiled, but then became stony-faced once more when he realized that when it came to Kira, she was probably correct. "See you tomorrow."

The penitentiary was an unassuming pagoda, actually rather shabby. She supposed it was rather unbelievable that she could arrive at an altogether separate plane of existence and still be less than impressed.

The receptionist behind the counter in the building's first floor lobby was a comely old lady for someone so short, but her face was taut with thinly disguised envy as she peered over her glasses at a living human with her whole life ahead of her. "May I assist you," she said evenly.

Tatsuki looked her dead in the eye. "Yes, hi. How are you? I'm here to take back Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Your name?" Quill poised.

"Arisawa Tatsuki."

"Are you a resident of Seireitei?"

"No, but neither is Kurosaki Ichigo," she said. "You have no jurisdiction over him, at least not in this capacity."

"He's been sequestered for his own health. Until the mental anguish that _you_inflicted on him is sorted, he's a danger to us all."

She wasn't being referred to someone higher up than this woman, so Tatsuki figured she must be the one in charge here. She pulled her Earth card. "As a representative of the world of the living and Kurosaki Ichigo's friend, I will take full responsibility for his recovery. If there's anyone who can knock sense into him, it's me."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to fill out the proper paperwork with—"

"He's saved your hides like multiple times, and there are posters of him plastered all over the city proclaiming he's changed Soul Society. Are you sure Soul Society can afford to tick him off once he's freed?"

"I'm a bureaucrat, sweetheart. A bureaucrat in a world that's already dead. No amount of bargaining, threats or appeals to reason will change the fact that you need to sign these papers. In triplicate, if you don't mind."

"How could you all treat your PR celebrity so awfully?"

"Use your head. Your trouncing him has proved he's better as a symbol out of sight than as a person with which folks can actually interact. He needs to be an unqualified hero, not a flesh and blood _human being_."

There was a single card left to Tatsuki.

"He's both, isn't he? A human and a hero."

"Arisawa—"

"I think heroes who are human are the most compelling. And the strongest. That fusion is at the heart of a hero's strength. I admire that about Ichigo."

"Your point?"

"Ichigo's also got more fusions going on, hasn't he? And they, too, have made him stronger."

She paused, but the woman didn't respond.

"I mean, he's a shinigami, in addition to being a human. And he's even a Holl—"

At that the formerly quiet building was filled with wailing and gnashing of teeth—How many of the poor saps held here had lobbied for Hollowification? She'd gleaned that Ichigo's status as a Vizard was something of an open secret.

"To be honest, I wanted Ichigo to teach me. How to become like him. But I can always ask around elsewhere."

The woman picked up her soul-phone and placed a very important call. Minutes later, clearance was given.

Ichigo emerged from his holding cell with a limp and, it seemed, a killer migraine.

"You okay, man? You had quite the episode back there."

"Could be better," Ichigo copped.

Tatsuki took him in arm. "C'mon, let's get you some proper rest."

"Rest is the last thing I need," said Ichigo. "What I really want right now…" he coughed.

"Water?"

"A rematch."

Tatsuki laughed. "How about we spar."

"You said you came to Soul Society to get stronger, right?" asked Ichigo. "Well, I know just the man who can help you train up to my level in no time at all."

* * *

><p>Having consulted Nemu earlier during several interrogations (what he called their dates), Ishida thought he was prepared for anything Mayuri could throw at him, but he had to admit that a zombie shinigami with Yammy's giant head attached to a tiny neck was a surprise.<p>

Mayuri was out for a midnight stroll (you could tell it was midnight because of the four panels per chapter devoted to the moon, which was coincidentally never any shape besides a crescent), with his hideous abomination lumbering along on a leash. Ishida, having donned Urahara's handy pitch black concealing cloak, stalked his mortal enemy's every pace, probing for weaknesses, openings.

How exactly one probed for weaknesses and openings, Ishida wasn't sure. But he didn't have anything better to do. The only alternative he saw was Nemu's invitation to lie with her in bed, but he didn't feel tired at all.

Finally Ishida followed Mayuri down several flights of stairs to yet another of his subterranean research and experimentation laboratories.

Mayuri spoke: "These are the Resurrection Tubes. I want to know how many of these Arrancar you remember."

Yammy Head groaned dimly in acknowledgement.

"R-Resurrection Tubes?" Ishida blurted.

"Yes, Quincy boy," Mayuri said. "And I wager you'll be wanting your grandfather back, yes?"

* * *

><p>Tatsuki in arm, Ichigo flew using that old bone-wing thing from way back straight towards Urahara's training grounds.<p>

"I've never flown before," Tatsuki schmoozed.

"Well, with all the times you knocked me on my butt, I thought it only right to balance the differential out a bit," Ichigo joked.

"Will I get to fly? That'd be cool."

"Nah, but you do get to walk on the air and teleport around. It's basically the same."

"I can see why you wanted that thing," said Tatsuki ruefully, pointing at the flying device in Ichigo's other hand. "If this isn't flyover country, I don't know what is."

"Rather dull, isn't it. Didn't want to break it to ya."

"I mean, Soul Society's got a whole bustling…ish capital, but then it's just _barren_. Oh, oh, is that them!"

Ichigo thought he could see them, too. He screwed his eyes shut and employed his spirit ribbon radar.

"It's them! Unless Urahara's got decoy ants with their spiritual pressure or something. Wait… is that? That punk kid Fullbringer? And that petite Vice!"

"C'mon, Ichigo, even I know her name is Hinamori, and I only found out about all this, like, yesterday."

HINAMORI

STAB

Ichigo grunted and clenched his throat, the unspeakable megrim pulling on the corners of his consciousness.

HINAMORI MOMO

STAB HINAMORI

"You okay, Ichigo? Oi, Ichigo!"

The flight wing slipped out of Ichigo's grasp and Zangetsu materialized in its stead as they hurtled towards Urahara and company.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" Tatsuki yelped.

The blade drew towards Hinamori's right eye. Left. Right.

"Oh hi Kurosaki-san!" called Hinamori innocently.

"Whoa, is that your bankai or are you just happy to see us?" said Urahara.

"That looks fun," said Yoruichi, watching as Tatsuki shrieked until she was blue. "It's been so long since a man made me scream like that."

Ichigo snapped out of his haze, regained control of himself and veered off from his trajectory towards Hinamori. He set down Tatsuki carefully. Tatsuki tapped her foot expectantly.

Ichigo scratched the back of his head apologetically. "Guess I got carried aWUU—"

"GOOD MORNING ICHIGO!"

It seemed that even in shinigami form, Isshin's preferred attack was his patented invincible Daddy Dropkick.

Tatsuki seemed pleased. "I'll take it." Then she addressed Hinamori. "Hey, what are _you_doing here? Aren't all of you guys stupid strong already?"

"I'm here to learn to fend for myself," she replied, with a steely edge to her voice. "I'm done with a certain captain class shinigami choking me with concern. What, may I ask, are _you_doing here?"

"Ichigo told me Urahara's the best at training—I guess you agree!-definitely didn't expect to see Ichigo's dad here, though, what's up Kurosaki-sensei?' She knew him as the doctor at the Kurosaki clinic, so she referred to him as sensei.

Isshin took one good look at Tatsuki, then resumed his killer submission hold. "Is that any way to treat your girlfriend, shit for brains!"

Ichigo bade they continue their conversation, with a "dads will be dads" shrug of the eyebrows

Tatsuki scanned everyone around her. "Uhh, hi, everyone. My name is Arisawa Tatsuki. Nice to meet you." She bowed deeply.

They introduced themselves in turn. She found the Shishigawara kid kind of cute, in an odd way.

"And Jinta, if you would do the honors for our very first customers!"

Jinta had decided he would Ururu's spirit gatling cannon to blast the business's name into a rockface. Fast Track Upgrades was now

HOME RUN HEROES AND HEROINES INCORPORATED.

Urahara fanned away the floating dust and leaned a little on his cane.

"Featuring only the latest and greatest in fast track upgrade technology," boasted Urahara. "100% guaranteed results by the end of the night or your money back."

"All right!" Hinamori pumped her tiny fist into the air; she couldn't wait to be uber.

Urahara was about to draw out a copy of the special sword they'd used to give Ichigo his power back until-

"I've got so much to live for!" shouted Hinamori enthusiastically. "I'm definitely never gonna get stabbed again!"

An awkward pause. Urahara secreted the sword back inside his robes.

"And I'll DEFINITELY never get encased in ice. SHIRO-CHAN," she clarified. Then she clapped her hands. "Okay, when do we start!"

The fan snapped shut. "Oh, right about now should do," said Urahara. "Ururu, fetch the equipment!"

What state of the art soul gizmos could the mad genius have come up with this time?

Ururu whipped out a gigantic mallet and smashed Hinamori and Tatsuki into a 50-yard pit.

The shadow of Jinta's head loomed large as he munched on a slice of watermelon. "First one to beg for a slice is a sissypants."

* * *

><p>Now that Tear Harribel found herself in Soul Society, she would have gleefully devoured as many shinigami as she could were it not for Orihime's admonishment not to.<p>

But there was one shinigami whom she had set her eyes on.

"And that's _everything_that bastard Aizen told you?"

She strode with purpose atop the rooftops of Seireitei, her monstrous reiatsu stirring bad dreams in all the shinigami dozing in their barracks.

Kon held on to her hair for dear life. "Don't tell me you're headed straight for him!"

Her shark mask clacked as she spoke. "Not yet. My revenge must be more grand."

"You know, I might be inclined to give you more information if you nestled me somewhere more secure, on your person," shouted Kon. "Preferably in front of you."

Harribel ignored this. "You said the Espada who lost their lives in that bastard shinigami's futile war are resurrecting one by one, yes?"

Kon gazed disinterestedly at his plushy nails as Harribel drew to a stop and her boobs stopped jiggling. "Yes, yes, or so I've heard. Does it matter, they'll only get killed again anyway. If I were you I'd vamoose and hit a beach on Earth or something. I could be your guide to the human world, too."

"'Resurrection.'" Harribel tasted the word. "Yes, that is what we are. _Resurrecion._ Our resurgence, our _revenge_, is at hand!"

"Wh-whoa, what are you doing with that? Hey, not so close!"

Harribel drew the wave sword from the scabbard on her back and lifted it to the sky for Kon to marvel at it.

"Tiburon!" she cried.

Her release flooded the citadel with crashing torrents of water.

"The resurrection tubes are in a subterranean laboratory. I'll follow where the water sinks," she reasoned.

The presence of a shadowy figure pulsed out and caught Harribel's keen sense as the creature gorged itself.

"B-Barragan!" she stammered.

"A million, billion years, nothing but desert," Barragan rambled, water sloshing from his teeth.

"Cripes, man, even I'm not that obsessive," Ginjou retorted. Each of the Fullbringers could walk on water.

"Damn it. My boots." Jackie's boots were now good as new.

"What are you talking about? Now they're much cuter!" said Riruka.

"What have I gotten myself into?" Yukio wondered aloud. He thought he preferred stewing over how to off his parents than this strange "social interaction."

* * *

><p>Ishida's jaw dropped.<p>

"Tsk tsk. Really? You're that shocked?" said Mayuri.

"How could you?"

Mayuri rattled his long fingernail on the glass of Ulquiorra's tube as slowly, slowly, he regained consciousness. "How could I? Well, I'd go into the mechanics and science of it, but… suffice it to say that in this world, you're never _truly_dead."

"Is that how you live with yourself after blowing up and murdering and toying with so many innocent people?"

"Gibberish. I don't live _with_ myself, I live inside myself—though I _am_looking into alternatives." And with that he resumed reading data screens and jotting notes.

Ulquiorra, as Espada #4, would be the next to fully recover. Next would be Nnoitra, and then Zommari.

"They should all be ready by matches next morning," he said. "It's actually rather lucky that there are two 'Espada' in hell and one—or two, if count the lovely little goat one—are missing, otherwise we wouldn't have had enough time or energy to line them all up together on schedule for the Tournament."

"Another reason is because I'd kill them all anyway."

Mayuri was surprised. "And why's that?"

"Chances are, one of the Hollows that ate my grandpa is now a part of one of them. And ifiI find I'm not satisfied with your death, I'd kill every last Gillian, Adjuchas, and Vasto Lorde until I'd wreaked revenge to my satisfaction."

"And throw off the equilibrium of the worlds?"

"Soul Society's gotta change somehow," he reasoned. "Now can you or can you not resurrect my grandpa?"

"We've only tried Hollows so far," said Mayuri. "But it should work. Pity that the process will be much longer; human souls are more complicated, they have funny little things called 'hearts.' I simply can't wait to tweak and play with a Quincy who won't resist!" he cackled.

At that moment, water began to rush down the stairway in through the entrance, ripping through the rain guards and inundating the lab up to their knees. Harribel, still in her released form, shot through the wave and, with an impossibly fast flash, tore Mayuri's right arm clean off. The arm with which he'd been stroking the glass of Ulquiorra's tube.

Mayuri no longer needed an injection to regenerate. "Really, was that necessary?"

"No. But it felt good," she said.

Dayumn. "I can do that, too," said Ishida, a bit impotently.

Mayuri threw up his hands. "Were I to fight you—Harribel, I take it?-you would probably win. However, you need me. Without me, the rest of your precious little subordinates will never come back."

"All I need, _shinigami_, is to kill you and protect the resurrection tubes until my _Fraccion_—"

"Don't be absurd. It's not like anyone we don't want to bring back will just _appear_. We may not understand the process perfectly," Mayuri conceded, "but such is always the case in SCIENCE, and in any case we've got the process _completely_under cont—"

Tap, tap, tap.

Harribel turned to face the tapping, and blanched. Two resurrection tubes that had previously been vacant were now occupied by the floating forms of two _very_familiar shinigami. She blanched—a new experience for a Vasto Lorde.

"Ohh. Oho! This is most unexpected." Mayuri dictated to his hell butterfly and sent it away to Yamamoto.

"Bye bye!" laughed Gin.

Of course, Gin _would_be the only one who could speak while inside the tube.

Meanwhile, Tousen's insectoid eyes were bugging out (ahaha) at the figure forming in a third incubation tube.

It couldn't be…!

Well, when did Tsukishima say he _couldn't_come back from the dead?

* * *

><p>"Let her in," Yamamoto intoned.<p>

The guards at the entrance to Yamamoto's office stepped aside. Orihime gulped, but she hadn't come this far just to give up now.

Yamamoto leaned his head on his palm. "What?" he asked flatly.

"I'm sorry, Yamamoto-san"—she saw no reason to pay him any higher respect than that—"but the violence of this tournament is pointless! And 'fighting to the death' is just barbaric!"

By this Yamamoto was more amused than angry. "And what would you propose in the tournament's place? Perhaps a stage show with all the captains singing show tunes?"

"No, of course not, that's silly!" Orihime shot back. "Not even I'd watch _that!"_

"What, then?"

"What about a cooking competition? No violence, but just as much excitement!"

Yamamoto whinnied hoarsely—his closest approximation of laughter. Orihime pressed on undaunted.

"With cooking, instead of seeing everyone's _ugly_ sides, we could see them put their _hearts and souls_into their cuisine, and, and enjoy labors of LOVE!"

Plus she'd get to sample more unconventional dishes as judge, but that thought would tend shop in her head for the time being.

"Love? Sweetie, I was a brat about your age during the Peloponnesian War, and love is just as alien and mysterious to me now."

Just then, a hell butterfly flitted right on Yamamoto's many-grooved dome.

"What!" Yamamoto blurted as Mayuri's hell butterfly relayed the message.

Orihime found herself standing upright at attention. Soul Society in danger again?

No reason not to fill her in. "Surprise new entrants into the tournament. Might as well rethink the whole match setup. And if you're interested in 'LOVE,' then have I got the matchup for you!"

NEXT DAY, NEXT ROUND: ORIHIME VERSUS ZOMMARI!


	8. Grine My Detractilance 3

**Ch. 8: Orihime VS Zommari**

Zommari had always been an odd duck, and his brief second life was no exception. Just as before, he fixed his AMOR on the first being he laid his many eyes on. In Hueco Mundo, that being had been Aizen Sousuke.

Here in Soul Society, it was his fellow Arrancar Charlotte Cuulhorne, tournament commentator extraordinaire.

The sunup light filtering into the Arena's rec room glinted off Charlotte's white tiara as he crouched down and gently slapped Zommari's cheek (since Zommari was lower on the totem pole among the Espada, it took him longer to come fully back to life).

"Wakey wakey, snuggums. You're due for your fight!"

_Fight?_ Zommari opened his eyes. No. Love! AMOR!

"Te amo!" Zommari giggled groggily. Memory jogged: "Charlotte Cuulhorne... BANZAI!"

"Jumping the gun a tad there," said Charlotte. "That's reserved for when you _die,_ silly!"

The inevitability of Zommari's impending demise hung in the air. He was a one-off matchup antagonist, it was his destiny to die at the hands of a shinigami.

"What right!" Zommari repeated, now standing up angrily of his own accord. "What right have _shinigami_ to pass judgement on us noble-"

"Trust me, sugar bun, your opponent today is the last person on the planet to judge anyone. And she's not even a shinigami!"

Zommari licked his lips. Breakfast was served!

* * *

><p>"Kubo, why are all your black characters so fucked up?" asked Editor.<p>

Kubo sippy-sipped his coffee. "Why, whatever do you mean?"

"Tousen turned into a weird insect thing. Charlotte is a flamboyant transvestite. Zommari is a witch doctor that turns into a weird fucking eyeball... thing. And Yammy turned into a-"

"Yammy isn't black."

"He's not?"

"No. He's Hispanic," Kubo laughed. Wasn't that obvious?

"Not sure that's much better, but anyway-"

"Harribel is black, and you wouldn't say _she's_ 'fucked up,'" Kubo countered.

"Yeah, but that's only because she has tits, so naturally she's voluptuous as opposed to freaky. Which is a whole _other_ can of worms-"

"With all due respect." Kubo lifted his hand once more to interrupt Editor. "I'm going to give Zommari a crazy good backstory after he dies, and then Orihime is going to cry over him. That will make the readers connect with him in his final moments, thereby making him _more_ than just a one-off matchup antagonist destined to die."

"I'm actually looking forward to that, I wanna see what you come up with for Zommari," said Editor. "Except, maybe don't make Orihime _too_ weepy and weak."

"Oh, don't worry about that, I think you'll find our well-rounded friend Harribel has rubbed off on Orihime."

Editor didn't know if by well-rounded Kubo meant he presently believed Harribel to be a three-dimensional character, or if he meant her 'assets' were well-rounded. Editor could only agree with one of those.

* * *

><p>The only way Harribel had rubbed off on Orihime was that now her tears streamed out with roughly the same force as Harribel's water attacks. Kubo simply couldn't bring himself to write Orihime any other way.<p>

Ishida placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as she bawled her eyes out at the thought of taking a life. "Think of it this way, Orihime. Hollows cause nothing but strife and misery, they're just malfunctioning souls turned to darkness."

"My big brother Sora turned into a Hollow, would you have _eradicated_ him!" Orihime cried. "I haven't been able to see him since then, I have no idea if he's okay!"

Ohh, touchy subject. Ishida would have to tread lightly. "I, uhh, could kill every Hollow to avenge you brother in case he's gotten eaten?"

Orihime shouted what she always did when overwhelmed: _"Kurosaki-kun!"_

Tch! A nerve had been struck.

He slammed her against the wall by the collar, in frustration. "NO, MORE, 'KUROSAKI-KUN'!"

This had the opposite effect he'd intended. _"Kurosaki-kun! Kurosaki-kuuuun!"_

Ishida chanted over her. "No, more, Kurosaki-kun. No, more, Kurosaki-kun..."

After about ninety more iterations of no, more, Kurosaki-kun, it finally seemed to resonate as Orihime's hysteria subsided.

"No, more, Kuro... saki... Ishida-kun?"

Ishida let go of her collar and they both sat down on the rec room bed, exhausted. "Yeah?"

"Ishida-kun. Ishida-kun!"

Oh no.

* * *

><p>"All right, you can keep hugging me until the match begins," conceded Charlotte, as he tapped his soul-microphone semi-suggestively. "But no leg humping."<p>

Zommari sucked his thumb and nodded. Then he humped Charlotte's leg anyway.

"C'mon, I can hardly walk us over to the battlefield-to breakfast, remember!"

Zommari went :{ whenever he got cock blocked.

"Dude, you've got issues. And that's coming from _me_. Anyway, we're here. Ladies and gentlemen, one and all!"

The crowd cheered and jeered.

"Welcome to Day 2 of the preliminary matches! Y'all ready to rumble!"

But there was a note of disappointment creeping in the audience's tones. "Is _he_?" Somebody pointed at Zommari, still clinging tightly to Charlotte's magnificent _amor_able abs.

Emergency measures. "Rosa Blanca!" Charlotte shouted, and a white rose blossomed above them, wrapping himself and Zommari in a dark undetectable dimension.

"Get off me, you weirdo! Don't _make_ me cero-beam your ass off." This was followed by the customary sassy black mom mm-hm-mm finger-snapping.

But Charlotte was a mere Arrancar #20 to Zommari's #7, and so try as he might, Charlotte simply could not pry Zommari off his leg.

"That's it! You leave me no other choice. Super incredible lovely omega supreme apocalypse transformation, _segunda resurrecion!_"

Just like Ulquiorra, Charlotte had a secret second release. The number "0" appeared tattoed on his forehead, a contender to Yammy's title. Most readers could not help but agree with that assessment of his character as his second release seemed to disrobe Charlotte of all clothes. What happened next was far too unspeakable to depict anywhere but offpanel, and so the next page had the dark dimension shatter away to reveal an unreleased Charlotte and an extremely shaken Zommari both crawling on the floor, sore and smarting.

Orihime rushed over to Zommari immediately to heal him.

"Please... can you revert _memories_?" Zommari pleaded. Then his nose rankled. A human!

It was lucky Orihime had her shield drawn up a split second sooner than the moment Zommari decided to devour her. The whipback of her new improved shield prevented him from simply super-sonicking at her throat once more. The two fairies that comprised her healing bubble returned to her earring-Zommari had given up that oppotunity with his attack.

"Aaand... they're off!" Charlotte picked himself up off the dusty arena floor and resumed commentating duties as Kon, (the new temporary official officiator until Aizen returned from rehab), rang the bell to **START THE FIGHTING!**

Zommari was not at his peak since he wasn't able to meditate before the match; therefore, all he could muster was a maximum of two speed clones. One clone would fight and eat Orihime, and the other would romance his designated amor.

Zommari #1 drew his sword and carefully probed for openings around Orihime's shield, not wanting to suffer the recoil of a glanced blow once more. Zommari #2, memories successfully reverted to back before Charlotte's frightening demonstration, began to serenade Charlotte with a strange witch doctory do the Egyptian dance.

"I'm trying to commentate, honey."

"Shhh, don't reject my AMOR," said Zommari.

"If you release you can shower us all with your _amor_," said Charlotte, knowing that Zommari's resurreccion was, quite incongruously, a stationary pumpkin, and therefore he would be forced to gice Orihime is undivided attention.

"You're right!" Zommari #2 clapped his hands, owl-twisted his head, and his sword bent into a spiral before him. _"Brujeria!"_

But, while Zommari did indeed lose the ability to generate speed clones in this form, he chose to ignore Orihime and instead continue to serenade Charlotte, much to the former's relief and the latter's chagrin.

"Yeckh!" Orihime nearly fainted. She'd never seen something so ugly in her life, and with the way she cooked that was saying a lot.

"Feel my AMOR!" All of Zommari's 50-odd eyes converged on Charlotte's crotch, but Charlotte wrapped himself once more in his impenetrable world of darkness with Rosa Blanca. Zommari was doubly surprised when a attack fairy zipped straight through the back of his skull.

"Some things are just _too_ goddamn weird," said Orihime. For a girl who once said she wanted to be a killer tank robot when she grew up, her likening someone to an abomination was not to be taken lightly.

Luckily for Zommari, he had never laid claim to much of a brain to begin with, and so Tsubaki's assault didn't kill him. Tsubaki had, however, managed to clip away the last remnants of reason off Zommari's frontal cortex. That's why Zommari panicked and collapsed into his ultimate defense form, _EL EMBRION!_

Orihime finished the job by using her healing bubble on the pitiful pink embryo-skull orb thing to erase Zommari from history entirely. As Ishida had said, a boon to all.

**ORIHIME WINS!**

* * *

><p>"Kubo, I thought you said you were going to give Zommari a sad backstory."<p>

"I did! He's been erased from history because he was so ugly. If that isn't sad, I don't know what is."

Editor could only stare agape in amazement at Kubo's pure kingly trollage. As a consequence, Editor was now sort of curious as to how Kubo would pull off the next leg of his daring saga. "Fine. What's up next for 'Grine My Detractilance 3'?"

**"Hinamori versus Hanatarou."**

A sippy sip of the coffee.


	9. Grine My Detractilance 4

**Ch. 9:**** Hinamori vs. Hanatarou**

-OR-

GRINE MY DETRACTILANCE 4

**THE NIGHT BEFORE DAY 2 OF MATCHES**

A crescent moon. Of course.

It was _mala suerte_ to be a tree while Nnoitra Jiruga threw one of his hissyfit tantrums in the soul-forest.

"You ADORE shinigami, isn't that right, you, you shinigami-adoring whore!?"

Whap—seven trees, sliced into stumps by his scythe.

"They told me you aren't here at all, but I KNOW the plain truth! I _did_ kill you, but when you resurrected you came out quicker than I did—which means you're STILL—"

Whap-another ten trees.

"—STRONGER—"

Whap—one.

"…than me."

Had he tear ducts, a strange liquid might have elected to stream down the Espada's cheeks. His heartless body instead did the next best thing, which was coughing up blood.

And then his left arm fell clean off.

"Ah?" Was this what _grief_ was like? Was he _literally_ falling apart?

No—this was merely Tousen Kaname's customary greeting.

"Old habits die hard," came Tousen's voice, thick and serene as a cricket in the night.

"Where are you!?" Nnoitra's depth perception was not exactly optimal, and (despite his best efforts) the wooded tangle confuzzled his puny nub of a brain.

"Community service," Tousen grumbled. "Did you _have_ to go and rampage away? I just managed to retrieve _this_ jaggeroff."

"That's Jaggerjack to you!"

But before Grimmjow could get too handsy with Tousen, another voice—a _female _voice.

"I can't stand wild beasts like you!"

There she was, holding her sword to Grimmjow's throat.  
>Nnoitra nearly choked on his tongue in shock. "But last time I left you—"<p>

"I grew up, like I'm always forced to," Neliel huffed, shaking her head. "I advise you two follow my lead."

Grimmjow stared daggers at her, but he knew he wasn't a match for either her or Tousen. If he tried to release, Tousen would char broil him, orders be damned.

Nnoitra, on the other hand, was not so retrained. "SANTA MARIA!"  
>He released, his fallen arm replaced with a dozenfold scythes. "DIE, YOU WHORE!" He charged blindly.<p>

Neliel didn't bat an eyelash. "Kaname-san, if you could? I'm afraid this true form of mine is still a bit unstable."

"_Cry_, Suzumushi."

Not even his bankai, and Nnoitra clattered to the forest floor, his miniscule skull ringing with a cacophonous sleep.

"Suzumushi is known to cause particularly terrible nightmares to those with low intelligence," Tousen explained.

"Whatever it takes to minimize such barbarity," she sighed.

Tousen shot her a look, as though he were chewing on some hard tack. Neliel eschewed violence, just like him, but she was still an impure being, nothing like the Wonderweiss's halo of innocence.

Grimmjow struggled to remain conscious. The shinigami and the woman seemed on par in both strength and philosophy. But he couldn't help but snort at the hypocrisy: Tousen's "path of least bloodshed" only came up whenever he wasn't slicing arms off. Or letting those more powerful than him attempt to sacrifice entire cities full of innocent souls just for a King's Key.

"A—all right, I'll do w-whatever it is you shinigami want." Another pointed glare at Neliel, as if to say _race traitor._ "Just tell me who I'm… gonna fight, and I'll psyche myself up for the, the arena, nice and proper like you like..."

"He's lying before your feet already," said Tousen. "Now sleep."

Before Tousen bonked Grimmjow on the cranium with the hilt of his sword, the Arrancar savored a fleeting smirk.

* * *

><p><strong><br>THE FOLLOWING MORNING**

4th Division barracks, site of the healing squad.

Hanatarou found himself upchucking in the bathroom after imbibing one too many of Mr. Urahara's experimental confidence pills.

He groaned as he patted his stomach. At this rate, he'd never be able to face Hinamori on the battlefield. She was more competent in every way, except perhaps for the skill of avoiding impalement, at which Hanatarou was a rather daft hand. Maybe if he could catch her interest with a 4th Division diagram of recommended anti-impalement mat rolls, that could serve as the perfect pretext for a date!

Hanatarou slapped his cheeks in front of the mirror, but his fingers sagged, pulling at his skin until his lower eyelids slipped down. Uhhh. He knew. He knew the only way to impress a girl was by defeating her! He had to be a strong, rock-muscled man's man!

Hanatarou lifted the shirt of his shihakusho to see if he'd developed chiseled abs overnight. Unfortunately, such was not the case.

Hanatarou felt like crawling back under the sheets. Why did Yamamoto even select Hanatarou anyway for the tournament, anyway? He was only a 7th seat. The only possibility, was that this was a gag match meant to humiliate him. He didn't particularly chafe at the notion—Life and the universe had seen fit to humiliate him to the point of numbness, so why should it bother him if the Captain Commander followed suit? He just wished Hinamori could have been slotted in for more of a proper adversary, especially after all that hard work. It wasn't fair to _her._

Ahh well. Things'll work out.

And with that simple thought, his stomach sorted itself instantly, and he patted it for good measure. Nope, still no abs. But at least he could leave the bathroom. Captain Unohana's trips to freshen up took very long indeed, and always left a smell that could only be described as faintly vile.

* * *

><p><strong><br>TIME OF THE BATTLE**

Using the wing doodad that Ichigo had dropped, Hinamori made her dynamic entrance.

"AND BABY NOW YOU THINK YOU'RE NUMBER ONE!" she sang.

She would have flown straight into the battlefield, but for the invisible barrier bubble—but then she remembered she could now crack open a hole for herself with a single rap of her dainty knuckles.

"Hi—Hinamori-san?" Hanatarou stammered. Her hair was now down to around her waist.

"LIVING OUT YOUR FANTASY, OOHH, SHINING BRIGHT FOR ALL TO SEEEE!"

"Hi," Hanatarou ventured with a little wave, but Hinamori bowed to the audience, ignoring him.

Then she began to speechify. "Kurosaki Ichigo is no longer the hero of Soul Society; he has gladly ceded that distinction to me, Hinamori Momo!"  
>This was Hitsugaya's one chance: he flitted across the dome of the arena's barrier like a blur and reached the hole Hinamori had punched out—but Momo was ready for <em>him<em>.

"Sorry, Shiro-chan, but you're not going to spoil my fun today." Without even an incantation, a flashy level 87 binding spell froze the captain in place.  
>Hanatarou would have quit right then and there if that display of raw power weren't so…<p>

"Beautiful," he blurted out.

Hinamori blinked and turned to face him. "Why… thank you!"

Hanatarou scratched his head. "Aha…"

"Could it be? Love at first sight?" Charlotte struck a (putatively) sexy pose.

"Must we set these poor hearts at variance in battle?"

Kon answered that for him. "Maybe getting straight to the fight might reduce the amount of barf I'm about to expel."

Hitsugaya, an immobilized heap on the dust, shot Kon, the officiator, pleading eyes.

"It's settled!" Kon rang the gong.

**START THE FIGHTI—**

"BANKAI!"

The stadium was awash with brilliant soul-radiation. Then the smoke cleared.  
>"Choukakuyuugouhannou Tobiume!"<p>

Her blade transformed into a gigantic pronged nuclear warhead, sparking green with the potential energy of a thousand million fiery soulsplosions. Hinamori took in a deep, less than sane breath and heaved the monstrous weapon of mass destruction twenty times her size overhead like a club.  
>Hanatarou did the only thing he could think of: He popped one of his genki pills and pumped his fist in the air in a tepid attempt at psyching himself up.<p>

"Go me!"

Hinamori was thoroughly charmed by this dopey optimism, and her bankai died down as she sealed her sword once more.

Hitsugaya sighed with relief. _No one's gonna get stabbed._

_STAB._

Hanatarou was a talented medic and his Squad 4 training had trained him for every contingency, and yet he was not terribly accustomed to being fine one second and having a sword shoved in his heart the next.

"Don't worry," said Hinamori, eyes glinting evilly. "I'm just going to even out our battle."

And so Hinamori began to pour half of her spirit energy into her opponent's body.

"Hey, that's illegal, isn't it?" Ichigo asked Yamamoto in the stands. (Seeing Hinamori get stabbed now thankfully quelled the inexplicable desire to stab her Aizen had hypnotically placed him under; Ichigo chalked it up to his Hollow self acting up like a spoiled tyke.)

"Not anymore," he lied. The last thing Soul Society needed was yet another extremely powerful shinigami with something to prove.

Ichigo rested his legs on the seat in front of him and his eyebrows un-furrowed. "Huh. I guess I really am a catalyst for change."

"You've got change!?" enthused the beggar seated in front of him.

"I can assure you, as an elective soul-surgery this is OW classified under Category T of the YOWIE ethics charter of my division as _quite_ unnecessary," Hanatarou winced, slowly pacing away so the sword left his body. "I'm content to OH GOD YOU TWISTED A LITTLE OOOWWW"—another genki pill—"…simply watch you show off your strength, Hinamori-san!"

Hanatarou stabbed himself with his healing sword, Hisagomaru, and patched up his gaping hole instantly. He then patted his tummy and wiped the sweat off his brow.

He's so… cute!

"Call me Momo," said Hinamori. "And I'll show you my _true _power somewhere… private."

"With no one around to hurt who might get hurt, right?" Hanatarou was careful to ask. Squad 4 had had quite enough sleepless nights.

"Can't guarantee that," Hinamori joked. "Besides , you've got a healing sword, haven't you? I have a feeling Hisagomaru's going to see a lot of use during our date."

Hanatarou gasped at the word, but she'd already bound him in a level 20 kidou leash and dragged him off the field as she shot off through the hole in the barrier into the far horizon.

"A total upset victory!" Charlotte danced big-hippily at the surprise outcome.

Kon took the mic. "Hanatarou wins by dint of being a lucky bastard!"  
><strong><br>WINNER: Hanatarou**

* * *

><p>"D-…did that just? Did <em>she<em> just?"

In the front row, the secret Hanatarou Fangirl Club balked at how catastrophically their plan had backfired. All those missives to Yamamoto, in vain! Lieutenant Hinamori was supposed to spurn Hanatarou so that he could come crying into their waiting arms!

Next match: Riruka vs. Komamura


	10. Grine My Detractilance 5

**Ch. 10:**** Riruka vs. Komamura**

-OR-

GRINE MY DETRACTILANCE 5

* * *

><p><em><span>AN:_ Playing off the "COULD UKITAKE BE BAD OMG" transparent bullshit reveal during the Fullbullshit arc (which totally warranted its own full page panel of an evil looking Ukitake you guys) I have decided to slowly transform Ukitake into a villain, only for him to get his own Byakuya-esque transparent bullshit excuse at the very end.

* * *

><p>Surprisingly, the indigent Rukongai dwellers that had come to people the stands once more cheered as Komamura and Riruka strode proudly into the arena to face each other in honorable combat.<p>

"What's with them?" Ichigo wondered aloud.

Renji picked his ear. "You wouldn't understand. How often do you think people in slums are handed free plushies?"

"You guys keep letting Hollows wreak havoc in Karakura and I guess I'll find out sooner or later. I mean, that's a lot of Hollows running around to have caused so many Fullbringers to be born."

Rukia punched him on the arm. "Sorry we can't all be awesome geniuses like you, Ichigo."

"You're just happy with any socioeconomic development that nets you a sudden windfall of stuffed bunnies."

Rukia squeezed her Chappy and her eyes darted from Ichigo to Chappy to Ichigo. "Shut up."

"Hey, Renji, is your fight going to be against one of the plushies? Only way it'd be fair," Ichigo teased.

"What she said," Renji shot back. "Also, don't forget that it's because of your stupid crazy reiatsu in the first place that your town is plagued by an avalanche of Hollows."

"Is it, though? All those Fullbringers were born before I started leaking any spirit energy."

"…That's a good point," Rukia realized. Once again she gazed down on Chappy, her enormous eyes beaming in concentration. An answer:

"Tsukishima did it."

"Oh yeaah," Ichigo agreed. "Glad _that_ fucker's dead. He's a soul now, isn't he? I should have ol' soul destroyer Ishida pay him a visit." A murderous glee at the thought of Tsukishima annihilated crept over his eyes.

"No, just let him degenerate into a Hollow, and then kill him, that way he goes to hell after having been a Hollow a while. That's even worse," said Rukia, channeling her inner sadist.

"You two are stone cold, yeesh," said Renji.

"We can give you pointers," said Rukia.

In the battlefield, Kon's soul pill had ejected as an automatic self-defense mechanism against Riruka's ministrations, and since Aizen was still locked up, there was no official emcee to declare the match begun. As Rukia and Renji argued over which of them had the better track record when it came to fights, Ichigo overheard Yamamoto beside him, wheedling Ukitake into assuming the role of emcee—and Hitsugaya mumbling bitter somethings through chittering teeth as Unohana stripped away the binding spell the new improved Momo placed on him like one would strip off chest hair.

Farther away, another interesting conversation was taking place.

"Why am I alive, you ask?"

Giriko supposed he shouldn't be taken aback by the question; it was not everyone who resumed the everyday trials of life after getting clean bifurcated. "It all began when my mother narrowly escaped a Hollow while pregnant with me…"

"Dude." Ikkaku stretched his palm out to Giriko's face. "That's all I need to hear about the nasty particulars of the human world. I just want to know how you survived a slash from the one and only Captain Kenpachi."

Giriko flashed his chompers at the hand and grinned wide, as though he were preparing to rip it off Ikkaku's wrist. "Let's just say the turn of phrase _time heals ALL wounds_ is no lie."

He threw off his eyepatch and revealed his right peeper with a fabulous flourish.

"…It's a normal eye," responded Ikkaku quizzically. "But if you're looking for a new eyepatch, my captain can provide."

Meanwhile, this match's combatants sized each other up in the arena.

"At first I thought you must just be another shinigami scum, but now I think you and I might just get along," said Riruka.

Komamura looked down at her with a mixture of indignation and amusement.

"I am NOT going to enter your plushy collection."

Riruka put the donut she was going to use as bait back into her bag and put her hands on her hips. "That's not what I meant, you—"

Komamura's ears pivoted away so he didn't have to listen to the impending _tsuntsun_ tirade. Riruka took notice and checked herself, forcing a smile.

"Listen, I just want to say how much I appreciate you."

"What?" Komamura crossed his arms, skeptical.

"With your…_ condition…_ you must understand what a horrid lie the LAW OF THE JUNGLE is!"

"Excuse me?"

Riruka began to rattle off the choked philosophy Ginjou had fed her, reciting it almost robotically. "People with ambition buy into the notion of the 'survival of the fittest,' but it's all just an illusion so that the weak majority persecutes the strong minority! It's the minority that has ruled since ancient times!"

"My patience wears thin already. What are you getting at, human?"

"I'm saying that as the minority, you should throw the shackles of your oppressors off and join me on my mission to overturn the social order!"

"You would that I turn blade against my comrades!? Insolence!"

Komamura's snout flared, incensed. His hand gripped his katana, but of course he shook his anger away. It was not his duty to harm humans, however ignorant.

Charlotte naturally seized upon this potential for drama. "Ohh, a moral dilemma! Will Captain Komamura's disgust with this human get the better of him?"

Ukitake, the new emcee, shot him a quite sympathetic look. _Even _I'd_ have trouble keeping calm around this girl_. But still he rang the bell and began the match, eager to bring this whole tournament to a tidy end as soon as possible.  
><strong><br>START THE FIGHTING!**

Riruka had already prepared her Fullbring, the small cartoon heart snapping from her finger to her target. Sooner than Komamura could react, he found himself shrunk down and warped into Riruka's bag.

Komamura poked at his purchase in the darkness. A sugary coating of some kind. He sniffed and grasped this pillowy confection. "…Well, this is new."

Riruka flashed Ukitake a thumbs up. "So… I won, right?"

"Oh, I wouldn't count him out just yet."

Her thumb turned into an accusatory finger. "Tch! I should have known you, of all people, would rig the match! After what you did to Ginjou…"

She struck a nerve. "What, you mean restraining him for his safety and the safety of others? Yeah, what a heinous crime. It's not like he ended up going crazy or anything," he said, rolling his eyes.

"You slapped his neck on the chopping block since the very beginning! Of course he was going to rebel!"

Ukitake's measured manner was slipping away—one too many ethics committee meetings had chipped away at his composure. "Look, I'm not even going to pretend I give the ghost of a shit anymore about your poow wittle Ginjou Winjou's bad feels. I hack up half my lungs everyday, and no it doesn't get any easier. But do you see _me_ fucking with Ichigo and his friends for shits and giggles? No, because I don't have a fuck factory's worth of screws loose. Besides, it's not we who betrayed his trust, it's he who betrayed _ours._ He's the one who gambled and lost."

"But… that doesn't make any sense," said Ichigo in the stands.

"I'm pretty sure this is a case where both sides are equally stupid," said Rukia. "Glad you knocked out Soul Society's million years of rigidity, Ichigo!"

"Not sure I really should have, now that it's turned over Ukitake-san's dark underbelly," he replied uneasily.

Rukia flashbacked, overtaken by the vivid memory of Kaien's Hollow possession. Ukitake had told her to stand back so as not to wound Kaien's pride. She blinked rapidly and her heart skipped a beat. _Could it be…?_

No… No… All she felt from her captain was warmth and compassion. It was nothing like Ichimaru's serpentine aura of fear.

"Are you okay?" asked Renji.

She punched him on the shoulder. "I thought I told you, fool. You no longer need to worry about me."

But she felt as though a certain blind spot had been jostled free in her mind.

Had she simply become too mistrustful? The selfsame creepy crawlies Gin had shot her were starting to course up her spine. Even Renji had come after her, once, she reasoned. Maybe Ichigo really was the only unchanging anchor, the only person she could rely on. Scrunching her hakama in her fingers, she stared intently at her captain, who stood there like an equalizing wall, parrying Riruka's heated blather with progressively more foulmouthed sarcasm.

Finally, Komamura had had his fill of delicious Japanese donuts (seriously reader, patronize your nearest Mr. Donut venue at the first opportunity), and unleashed a yelp of "Bankai!" a bit more burpily than he would have liked.

The giant samurai rose from the dust, a titan of sun and clay. Typically, it would dwarf buildings. However, since Komamura himself remained miniscule, his bankai had also been scaled down. Now, it only reached Riruka's height.

Riruka kicked back twenty paces in surprise, and activated the full extent of her Fullbring, donning the clad-type armor Ginjou had given her and all the members of Xcution when he stole Ichigo's own super sentai Fullbring. She currently wielded the power to hide herself inside any person or object. If she could successfully override Komamura's control of Tengen Myouou, this match was hers, and she'd be free to continue her cuteness crusade.

Sure enough, it worked; she pressed on Tengen's chest plate with her Fullbring's pincer claw and entered it through the pried hatch. Piloting it like a Gundam, she slashed through her own bag and forcibly ejected Komamura, who snapped back to regular size.

"You can't hurt me now!" she crowed. "Any damage your bankai takes, you receive in kind!"

Komamura crossed his arms, and remained silent.

"How does it feel, to be looked down upon? You think you're so great, but you're just a pet they've seen fit to dress up and parade around! You're just yet another of Soul Society's tools to be used and thrown aside! And you bought into it totally, how pathetic!"

"Ugh, I hate teenage girls," said Ukitake, dabbing at his brow. "Honeybunch, he's fifty times your age, I think he knows what's what by now."

Riruka brought Tengen's scimitar to its neck, threatening to kill Komamura in so doing. "All right, let's see you risk your own neck to save him then, if you care so much about him! Let's see you _really _sweat!"

Ukitake sat his ass down on the dust, defiant.

"You see!? Not a glimmer of compassion!"

Komamura spoke at last. "Ukitake-san. I hear you often have trouble restraining your 3rd Seats."

"They can be a fucking hassle, man," he smiled guiltily.

"Forgive me my presumptuousness, but if I may be allowed to give you a piece of advice; don't humor them. If there's anything Yamamoto-soutaichou has taught me, it is to stamp down such meaningless babble with an iron fist."

"You're still going to pretend everything's cool!?" she harped. "Maybe you've been alive _too_ long, just like the rest of you shinigami! You're not a dog, you're a dinosaur! Or maybe, maybe it's not your _age_, it's that they kicked obedience into you! They looked down on you like a WHELP!"

After a fashion, Komamura's fierce amber eyes deigned to look her way. "I wouldn't waste my breath, if I were you. You're not going to get a response out of me. Any effort spent educating you is effort wasted."

"Ohh? And why's that, tough guy!?"

"When's the last time you saw a fox mentor a gnat?"

A fox is clever, and above all fleet.

Riruka saw the devious fang and hiccupped in terror. "N-no… NOOOO!"

Komamura simply sealed his sword again. Riruka was trapped as a reflection in his blade.

He looked down at her, eyes boring; she was his new tool.

Well, he _had_ said she wasn't going to get a response out of him, but this chance for a one-liner was too good to pass up.

"You don't know a thing about me. Bitch."

"He's going to need fifty more lifetimes of practice for his one-liners," Ichigo appraised.

WINNER: Komamura

_*_*_  
><strong><br>KOMAMURA'S TOUCHING BACKSTORY**

_In death, he was a fox person._

_In life, he was also a fox person._

_"Oh, how I wish I weren't a fox person!" Komamura wailed to the sky, even as the feudal Japanese pitchforks pierced his fluffy winter coat._

_The sky pissed on his dreams._

_*_*_

"What, that's it?" said Editor. "That's not even a page of backstory. Half of the page is a single panel of Riruka looking down, as if that means something."

Kubo sighed, as though he were dealing with a simpleton incapable of grasping his intricate tiered fortress of secrets. "The last time I wrote flashbacks, they were all two pages long for four people back to back. My brain still hasn't recovered from the sheer emotional toll of that chapter."

"Your brain is a 4th level mystery, Kubo."

Kubo lit up. What an immense compliment, what a refreshing pat on the back!

"That's the first nice thing you've said to me all week, Editor."

Had… had he forged a _friend?_

He would try to append a _–chan_ to Editor's next time.

NEXT MATCH: Ukitake vs. Yachiru


End file.
